"Yes." He deadpanned as he let the door to the record store swing closed behind him as he adjusted the strap of the bag on his shoulder. Al was right in thinking Fillan wasn't much of a fighter. While he was a fount of knowledge in terms of supernatural defence and problem solving, (growing up a Van Helsing hadn't been a complete waste on him), he didn't have the temperament for monster slaying. If he'd been around when darkness fell, it was far more likely he would have been consumed by the shadows he was trying to reason with than functionally hold his own.
He held the duffle at an awkward angle as he made his way through the narrow rows of vinyl storage bins before proudly setting it down on the counter next to Allegra and pulling the zipper to reveal his contributions to her snack shelf. His smile read a bit like a proud tomcat displaying a dead mouse.
While he was nervous about how his text messages would come across of what to say or do next when he wasn't around Allegra, he found the twist in his stomach eased up a little bit when he actually saw her. He just always felt better about everything when she was there. He felt protected with her in a way he didn't really mind. It never felt condescending or like she thought he was inept. Because it always seemed to spring from a place of authenticity. If he really thought about it, authentic would probably be the word he used to describe Al, (after saying something ridiculous and faux-poetic about her bright blue eyes). He read her abrasiveness as honesty, and after growing up in a house with a whole family of secretive, paranoid monster hunters, he was just really drawn to her upfront, no holds barred, personality.
Which of course, only made him feel worse about His Secret.
"You said you were running low on snacks, and I didn't know what you were in the mood for so I figured I just wouldn't take any chances."